Liar Liar
by Qwerts
Summary: "Stop," Arthur ordered, jumping to his feet and pacing furiously back and forth in front of the warlock. He wanted to throw something. He desperately needed something to shatter into a million pieces and crack, break the silence and the tension that was in danger of flooding him. / In the end, it's not an elaborate plan or an enemy kingdom. It's a truth spell and his best friend.
**A/N: Hello, all! This is the long awaited completed version of Oneshot 10 in my 100 Oneshot Merlin series. It's pretty long for a oneshot (16 pages on Word!) and originally I was going to split it up into two parts, but in the end I just left it all together as one big story. Anyways, happy reading!**

* * *

 **Liar Liar**

* * *

It hadn't been Merlin's idea to go into the big, creepy, dark tunnel. Oh, no. That had been all Arthur. All because that stupid rabbit just had to go into that dark entrance, and Arthur's stupid pride just had to kick in, and Arthur just had to insist that he (meaning he and Merlin, of course) go after it.

Not Merlin's idea by any means. Hunting trips were supposed to be a pain, yes, but a pain in a why-do-I-have-to-carry-all-these-dead-animals around kind of way. Not in a we-could-die kind of way.

Or so Merlin had told Arthur (to which Arthur had promptly told Merlin to shut up). And that is how both men ended up trudging down a dark, moldy stone tunnel in some nameless ruin, listening to the faint echoing drip of water and holding hunting supplies and a few animal carcasses (Arthur, of course, carrying the former and a reluctant Merlin luging the latter.)

"I don't see why you have to kill this rabbit," Merlin grumbled, adding his voice to the staccato of footsteps and water.

"I don't see why you can't be quiet," Arthur retorted. "Or is Merlin afraid of an itty-witty wabbit?"

"I'm not afraid of the rabbit," Merlin said, somewhat indignantly, as the duo trudged on. "I'm wary of what else might be in this tunnel with the rabbit."

"You're just being paranoid," Arthur dismissed airily. "They're ruins, Merlin. Hence, abandoned. Hence, no danger."

"What if the ceiling caves in? Or what if there're bandits hiding out here?" Merlin challenged, walking in a wide arc to avoid a particularly muddy-looking puddle.

"Paranoid," Arthur echoed, which Merlin took to mean the prince had no real retort.

Well, the royal could say whatever he wanted, Merlin knew something was off. It wasn't just the ominous surroundings- although in Merlin's opinion, they should have been enough to warn any reasonable person away. No, Merlin could feel it. His magic was coiled tightly, tensed up within him like an animal that knew a predator was near. It sensed what Arthur, apparently, did not; something was here, dark magic. And the warlock did not like it one bit.

Sending a quick glance at the prince, who was walking just ahead of him, Merlin made sure the blonde prince's attention was not on him. Then, as quietly as he could, Merlin muttered a quick spell under his breath.

Instantly, in his mind's eye, a familiar face appeared. Merlin froze, horror trickling through him. Oh, no. He needed to get Arthur out immediately.

Arthur, unaware that his friend had stopped walking, kept on going for a ways until he too stopped. For a moment Merlin thought the prince had noticed the absence of his servant's footsteps or, better yet, had decided that the whole fiasco had been a bad idea after all.

The hope spluttered out and died when Arthur knelt down to take a closer look at something ahead of him on the ground. Just as Merlin opened his mouth to try once again, with more urgency this time to dissuade the prince, Arthur spoke.

"Merlin, look at this," he said. Merlin, jogging slightly to catch up with the royal, let his curiosity temporarily overpower his worry. Maybe he could use whatever his friend had found to drag Arthur away from the tunnel. What he saw made his blood run cold.

There, lying motionless on the uneven stone floor, was the rabbit. Its head, twisted and bent at a sickly, unnatural angle, lay so that both men got a clear view of the creature's wide, lifeless eyes. Its white fur was matted with blood.

"Arthur," the sorcerer managed after a moment, "come on, let's get out of here."

"What could have done that?" Arthur murmured, ignoring his servant. "Such a clean break… this was deliberate."

"Arthur," Merlin urged again, a little panic leaking into his voice. "I really think we should leave."

"Yes, Arthur, run away like a good little boy," sneered a new, cold voice. At the end of the passage there was an arched, shadowed doorway; from this shady spot a familiar form emerged.

"Morgana," the prince breathed, shock flitting across his face that was quickly guarded by disgust. Merlin could not claim to be as shocked- instead, he watched with the guarded wariness of an exasperated parent who had warned a wayward teenager to mind himself but had gotten into trouble anyway.

"All by ourselves, are we Arthur?" The witch's eyes roamed the stone corridor in barely concealed excitement. Her joy turned to a morbid glee when she, seemingly for the first time, spotted Merlin.

"And you brought your little pet!" She cried, grinning like a cat that had got the canary. "Possibly the two people I hate most, just handed over to me? Fate is too kind."

"Fate has horrible deaths in store for monsters like you, Morgana," Arthur spat. The sentence seemed to suck all the joy from Morgana's bright face and shadowed it, so she seemed older and more hardened.

"Yes," she hissed, almost to herself. "It does, doesn't it? But fate will not triumph over me there… he will not kill me. An old man! He couldn't possibly!" At her words, a stunned, confused Arthur shot his servant a baffled look, as if to say, "she's crazier than we thought!"

Arthur frowned, any decent comeback lost in his bewilderment. It was like Morgana had gone from one to three and skipped two without any warning- and, worse (in Arthur's personal opinion, at least), Merlin didn't seem half as confused as the prince did.

Merlin, as a matter of fact, was not confused at all. There was only one person Morgana could be talking about.

"Wrong." Morgana hissed, furious. "Emrys will not evade me!"

"Emrys," Arthur echoed, arching one eyebrow skeptically. "Morgana, any doubts I had about your sanity are confirmed, believe me. Emrys is a myth."

Both Morgana and Merlin stared at him, dumbfounded. Then-

"You know about m- Emrys?" Merlin cried, stunned. He was too surprised to even remember the witch watching on- luckily, said witch was just as surprised.

"How?" The dark-haired woman asked, sounding painfully like the old Morgana as her menacing demeanor slipped in her shock.

"Morgana, you forget I lived during the Great Purge. There was a time during my lifetime when such nonsense was still heard of."

"But you would have been an infant, a toddler at oldest," Morgana argued.

"What?" Arthur asked, looking almost offended. "You think an entire magical community just disappeared overnight? It took time. And I may be royalty, but you honestly believe I wasn't observant enough to take notice of a myth regarding a magical savior?"

"Your skills in the 'observant department' have been lacking in the past, Arthur," Merlin muttered, shaking off his shock in an attempt to remember the real threat: Morgana.

The words seemed to shake Morgana from her stunned diplomacy and remind her of the situation at hand. Still, a crazy light was still in her shadowed eyes- Emrys had been involved. In Morgana-speak, that meant all logic and reason (or as much as any evil sorceress would have) flew out the window.

"That's right, Arthur," Morgana sneered. "Never observant enough, are you?"

Both men knew she was talking about her time as a hidden magic wielder in the castle; neither rose to the bait. After all, one can only apologize so many times.

"Perhaps you will see this, though. Try to keep up," Morgana mused, almost as an afterthought as she raised one hand. Blue energy crackled between her fingers. Arthur drew his sword, but Merlin knew between steel and magic, Morgana would triumph. In that moment, the warlock would have given anything for a handy tree branch to conveniently knock the prince out with- but in an abandoned tunnel, well, resources were limited.

Merlin couldn't let Arthur get hurt, secret double life aside. So he did the only option left that he saw- he threw himself at Arthur and shoved him out of the way. Arthur stumbled sideways and hit the wall hard. He slid to the ground, dazed but not knocked out. Meanwhile, Morgana's blue energy hit Merlin square in the chest, arching across his slender figure and sending him skidding across the floor where he lay motionless.

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted, stumbling to his feet. "Leave him out of this, Morgana," he managed, unsteadily planting himself between the witch and his fallen manservant. "If you've killed him…" he added, and despite his weak condition, the look in his icy blue eyes was anything but.

"Relax, brother dear," Morgana sneered. "He's fine. Just very, very honest at the moment."

"What?"

"Well, it would have been optimal if it'd hit you, of course. Then any information you had on my- ah- opponent would have been mine. But no matter. I think Merlin has a secret or two you'd be interested in hearing yourself. Try asking him about poison, when he wakes." She surveyed the two men coolly, a small smirk on her face like they were the punchline of a great joke. "And I do hate to get my hands dirty. Maybe you'll do it for me. Until next time, your highness." And in a twirl of black satin and tangled hair, the witch was gone.

* * *

When Merlin woke up, he was in the last place he expected to be- his bed. Blinking the sleep from his eyes he sat up and scanned the room groggily, confusion and the fog left by an early morning wake up making his usually sharp mind dull.

"What the-" He mumbled, kicking back the covers and swinging his feet over the side of the bed so his bare feet rested on the cold stone floor of the castle. Wiggling his toes against the chill, he stood up and stretched, confusion still marring his angular face. Slowly the fog cleared. As far as he could remember, he'd been with Arthur out hunting. They'd run into Morgana, and he'd been hit, and then… and then he'd woken up back home? Had he missed something? With Uther on the throne, he should be in the _dungeon._ He'd come in contact with magic, he'd been hit! He should be chained up, being checked by Gaius so as to assure the paranoid king that he wasn't under the influence of the witch's power.

Gaius! He'd explain things. Relieved, Merlin left the confides of his room and stumbled out to the main room. He spotted the old physician right away, sitting at the table eating breakfast.

"Up on time for once, I see. Maybe that knock to the head did you some good," Gaius said dryly. Merlin just stared at him for a moment, not even sure how to formulate the question or where to begin. Then:

"Is Arthur alright?"

At the question, Gaius leaned forward, steeping his fingers together above the wooden table as one eyebrow rose to his hairline and the other sank low over his eyes in a confused, skeptical expression.

"What do you mean?"

"We ran into Morgana, out-"

"Morgana!" Gaius interrupted, stunned. "And she let you go?"

"I dunno, I was- wait, Arthur didn't tell you what happened?" Merlin cursed mentally, wishing he could backtrack, but Gaius was already talking.

"No," Gaius frowned. "He didn't. According to the prince, you tripped and hit your head and he had to cut the trip short to bring you back. What really happened?"

"We went into ruins and ran into Morgana, who attacked us. I was knocked unconscious protecting Arthur- that's all I remember," the warlock said immediately. Then he frowned- he was sure he hadn't meant to say it that way. He usually tried to make his 'adventures' sound as un-dangerous as possible. Blunt was hardly his style.

"I see," Gaius murmured. If he was surprised by the straight answer, he didn't show it. "And Arthur wasn't hit by any spells? There's no way Morgana could be controlling him, forcing him to omit your encounter from his story?"

"Not that I know of," Merlin said honestly.

"You said you were knocked out," Gaius said, thinking out loud. "Care to elaborate, Merlin?"

"I was hit trying to-" _trying to protect Arthur from a spell that, had I thought quicker, I probably could have deflected using magic somehow._ The thought flew unbidden through Merlin's mind, making him frown. He didn't want to say _that_.

 _How about… I hit my head dodging a spell from Morgana. That way he won't worry. Well, not as much, at least._ Opening his mouth, Merlin made to spout his tiny white lie.

"I hit my head dodg-" Half way through the word, Merlin's mouth seemed to betray him and fell silent. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Gaius frowned, concerned.

"Merlin?"

"I said I hit my head-" Once again, Merlin's voice fell silent once the truth started to fade into the hazy grey area of half-truths and tiny lies. Panicked, the warlock looked to Gaius, who wore an expression of dawning dread and understanding.

"Tell me the truth, Merlin."

Merlin was too panicked to properly hold his tongue. Meanwhile, his tongue seemed to have a life of its own as he said, "I was hit pushing Arthur out of the way of one of Morgana's spell and the impact knocked me out." The blood drained from Merlin's face as he added, "I didn't want to say it like that."

Gaius nodded grimly like his worst fear had been confirmed.

"She hit you with a truth spell, Merlin. You literally _cannot_ lie." The words seemed to resound around the room as what little color was left in Merlin's face went white. The room seemed to spin dizzily around him.

"But Gaius, my magic. If-"

"I know, Merlin," Gaius said gravely. "But there may be a way around this. I've read about these enchantments- they don't _force_ you to answer. They force you to reply truthfully no matter what, but if you're strong-willed and careful, you can choose to remain silent. And, of course, if you're careful enough, you can still tell the truth without saying _everything._ Do you understand?"

"I think I'm going to be sick," the warlock mumbled in reply. Then he brightened, struck by a certain burst of inspiration. "Wait, can I pretend to be sick? So I can't talk to anybody?"

"With your condition?" Gaius asked skeptically. "I don't think that's a good idea. What would you tell your visitors? And," he added, seeing Merlin open his mouth to object, "don't think you can just pretend you're contagious. Arthur asked to see you bright and early- I'm starting to see why."

Merlin's shoulders sagged, but he didn't argue, which Gaius seemed to decide was as good as agreeing.

"Good. Let's practice quickly," Gaius ordered, leaning back and surveying Merlin sternly. "Are you Emrys?"

"Yes," Merlin said immediately, before clapping both hands over his mouth and cursing under his breath.

"Merlin, you need to focus," Gaius reprimanded, worry evident in his lined face. "Try again. Are you Emrys?"

At the question, Merlin bit his tongue, holding back the _yes_ that was struggling to escape. "I-I have been called that before." Not technically a lie; the words slipped out with some struggle but audibly.

"Better," the physician mumbled. "Let's try another. "

* * *

When Merlin entered Arthur's chambers almost an hour later, he was worried sick but could bend the truth better than previously. He could at least pick his words now, which would be vital if he was to get out of this with his secret intact.

"Ah, Merlin! Finally decided to show up, I see." Arthur's voice made Merlin jump- he may have been an hour late, but he still hadn't expected the prince to be awake, much less up and dressed. For Arthur was up and dressed, sitting at his table and looking at Merlin like he was seeing him for the first time.

"Arthur. I see you _can_ dress yourself," the servant mumbled, sending up a silent prayer of thanks when his voice didn't shake.

"Sit down, Merlin," Arthur ordered, gesturing to the chair across the table for him. He hadn't even risen to the servant's jibe- Merlin gulped. Oh boy, was he in trouble.

"Morning," he chirped instead, sliding into the intended seat with a false skip in his step. "So, got any chores for me today? I should get a head start, y'know. Then you can, um, get off to your meetings and all."

"Ironic that I've cleared my schedule the one day you actually want to do chores, Merlin," the prince responded dryly. "However, conveniently for you, I've made plenty of time for us to talk."

"Oh, joy," Merlin muttered. This was never going to work if Arthur could see his face the whole time. It would be too much effort to master his tongue and expression simultaneously. "Well, talk away! I'll just get a head start on some of the daily work and listen while you blabber on." Before the prince could protest, the warlock jumped up and started making the bed.

Arthur, seemingly coming to the conclusion that Merlin wasn't going to sit still, turned in his chair so he was talking to Merlin's back as the servant worked.

"Morgana said some interesting things while you were down for the count, Merlin," the prince mused, as if simply thinking out loud.

"Did she?" The servant replied, feigning nonchalance as best he could. "Like what?"

"Oh, some information on the spell she'd hit you with. Considerate, wasn't it?"

"A bit unusual for her, though," Merlin threw in. "Morgana usually has a double agenda. You can't trust her advice."

"Perhaps."

For a moment, the two men lapsed into silence. Then Arthur spoke up again:

"I trust you've figured out by now what the spell was, judging by your demeanor."

Merlin wanted more than anything to say no, but Morgana had made sure that wasn't an option. So instead, he mumbled, "Gaius figured it out."

"I hoped Morgana was just full of hot air, throwing around truth spells. But now… do you have secrets, Merlin?"

"Everyone has secrets."

" _Mer_ lin!"

"Yes, Arthur, I do," Merlin admitted, turning around to face the royal. "But trust me when I say you don't want to hear them."

Arthur studied his servant cryptically for a moment, before saying slowly, "Merlin, you know everything about me. I thought- well, I suppose I always assumed your life was as simple as any peasant. Now I find out that I was wrong. You can hardly blame me for being curious."

"Blame you? No," the warlock mused in response. "But that doesn't mean I want to tell you."

"We all make mistakes. That's how we learn."

"And if telling you the truth is a mistake?"

"Then we'll both be learning something new today." Arthur let the room fall quiet again, trying to gauge the other man's reaction to the conversation so far. He couldn't deny the mixture of panic and haunted sorrow he saw in the Merlin's normally cheerful eyes. Whatever was going on, it was big. In the end, though, that just made Arthur want to know more. He felt guilty. His friend had been going through hard times, and he'd been alone. If Arthur could remedy that in any way, he wanted to. Surely Merlin saw that? He must. So Arthur tried to be patient. The part had to be coming where Merlin opened up to him in a display of trust… any minute now…

"Are you sure you don't have any chores for me to do?"

Arthur's jaw dropped. _What?_ He was stunned, but only briefly. Then he was mad. Merlin w _as_ going to open up to him, whether he liked it or not!

"Tough, Merlin," the prince snapped irritably. "I _don't_ have any chores for you. But if you won't tell me on your own, I'll just ask. What was Morgana going on about when she mentioned poison?"

"Poison?" Merlin frowned.

"Yes, _Mer_ lin, poison. She said I should ask you about poison."

There was another beat of silence, and then the confusion cleared from Merlin's face to be replaced with dread and a grim sort of regret. Needless to say, the expression did nothing to alleviate Arthur's curiosity.

"I told you, you don't want to know. And double agenda, remember? You can't trust Morgana."

"I think I'll take my chances," the prince replied dryly. "So, out with it. What was she talking about?"

"I-I…" Merlin trailed off, a helpless look on his thin face.

" _Mer_ lin," Arthur warned, visage stony.

Merlin bit his lip so hard it turned white. He looked at the ceiling. He looked at the door. He looked everywhere except at Arthur. At his side, one hand twitched as if he wanted to clap it over his mouth. Then, in a sudden burst of words, he said:

"I once poisoned Morgana."

Silence fell across the room. Arthur sat looking in wide-eyed silence at Merlin, who persisted determinedly in looking everywhere except for at the prince. The servant had grown very pale.

"Why didn't you want to tell me that?" The prince asked finally, brows furrowed in confusion. "Her fall would do Camelot a world of good."

Merlin squirmed, mouth clamped shut. This time, however, he didn't need to say anything else.

"Why would she- _oh._ " Arthur was glad he was sitting down, because he was sure he would have collapsed. " _Before?_ But _why?_ "

"You're not mad?" Merlin asked, looking almost as surprised as Arthur himself felt.

"I.." Arthur trailed off. Was he mad? "I'm more surprised. Tell me something that will convince me there's more to that story."

Merlin blinked in surprise. If Arthur hadn't been so stunned, he would've been offended that Merlin hadn't expected to be allowed to explain himself. Still, the manservant hesitated, like he was choosing his words carefully. Slowly, he walked over to Arthur's table and sat down. Arthur felt a surge of triumph, though he kept his face impassive.

"I knew Morgana was evil when I poisoned her," Merlin admitted finally. "Or at least, I knew she'd already begun plotting and was working with her sister."

Arthur nodded, looking relieved. "I knew there had to be more to it," he said with a satisfied tone of voice. Then he frowned again. "Why didn't you tell me? How did you find out?"

"I didn't tell you because I knew a servant's word wasn't worth a Lady's," Merlin allowed. Thankfully, the spell seemed pacified by the semi-truth. "And I found out… unintentionally. She seemed off."

The answer was vague at best, but Arthur accepted it. At least his servant was opening up a little; this was a battle he would have to win in tiny victories.

"So that was the big secret?" Arthur asked aloud. "That's not awful. You had your reasons."

Merlin fidgeted, suspiciously silent, and Arthur's eyes narrowed.

"That wasn't the big secret," he stated.

"It was what Morgana wanted you to discover," Merlin offered, attempting a winning smile. Arthur wasn't moved.

"But it's not what you want to hide so badly," he said flatly. Merlin sagged in his chair. His mouth remained tightly shut. "Well? Answer me. Was that your big secret?" He couldn't help it; he was getting mad again.

"No," peeped Merlin, voice so soft Arthur barely heard him.

"I order you to tell me!" Arthur snapped. Merlin blanched, looking horrified, and Arthur immediately felt guilty. He opened his mouth, clamped it shut again; the servant bit down on his lip, hard, so hard that Arthur could see tears in his eyes and blood on his mouth.

"Stop," Arthur said quickly. He felt sick. "I meant… I order you to tell me… if you slept well last night."

"Like a baby. Who'd been knocked out," Merlin smiled weakly. The blood on his lip stood out in sharp contrast to his pale, strained face. Arthur felt guilt claw up his throat.

"Merlin," he blurted. "I'm not trying to… I don't want…" he trailed off and took a deep breath, looking away from Merlin. "Here," he said finally, thrusting a napkin in Merlin's general direction. "Get the blood off."

Merlin didn't say a word, but accepted the napkin. Arthur didn't face him again until his face was clean; it'd only been a trickle of blood, but to Arthur it felt like a river.

"Have people reacted so badly to your secret in the past?" Arthur asked finally. "Or is this a trust thing?"

"I trust you," Merlin said immediately. He was honest, Arthur knew, but he still looked like his seat was made of coals. His eyes flickered over Arthur's face, to the table, to the walls, and back again. He fidgeted in his seat in a painfully child-like manner. "Not many people know it."

"Okay," Arthur said quietly. "I won't make you tell me." He didn't want to say it. He wanted to demand an answer, scream at Merlin for locking him out. But he wouldn't. He didn't think he could.

"Really?" Merlin's face flooded with guarded relief.

"Really," Arthur promised reluctantly. "Just tell me this: why are you so afraid of letting this out?"

"I-" Merlin voice was suddenly very small. He seemed thrown off balance; if he'd seemed strained and aged beyond his years before, now he seemed uncertain and vulnerable. "I'm not used to telling people. The idea of anyone knowing… terrifies me." The words seemed to come without Merlin's inhabitations locked onto them. Arthur wondered if Merlin was truly speaking, or if the truth spell was.

"It's a big deal," Merlin continued. His fidgeting had ceased, and his stillness made him shrink to match his voice. "People have died. If the wrong people find out, I could be next. And… if you know, it puts you in a bad position. Ignorance is bliss. I've hidden for so long, I don't think I know how to stop." Merlin's voice cracked dangerously on the last word, and Arthur looked away, ashamed and angry.

"Do you want me to know?" Arthur asked finally.

"Yes," Merlin admitted. "I don't like lying to you."

"I don't like being lied to." Merlin flinched at the words like he'd been struck. Arthur immediately wished he could take them back.

"Do you believe you've always done the right thing?"

"Always? No," Merlin sagged against his chair. His eyes were heavy. "But I've tried- I swear Arthur, I've tried. I've never acted against Camelot or you."

The guilt was back. It was a raging monster now, making the air thick. Here, a servant had just pledged his loyalty after Arthur had demanded a truth the man clearly didn't want to part with. What sort of a king was he?

"You know, Merlin, I changed my mind," Arthur said, standing abruptly. "You _do_ have some chores to do. My hunting dogs need to be walked."

"I-what?" Merlin spluttered, looking thrown off. "You're letting me go?"

"No idea what you're talking about," Arthur said firmly. "Now get to it. My dogs aren't going to walk themselves."

"Yessir," Merlin said after a long pause. His stunned response was slowly fading into gratitude. As he left, he paused at the door.

"Arthur? I think if you really wanted to figure it out, you could." Then he was gone.

* * *

 _Arthur walked through the woods, feeling the crunch of leaves and twigs under his bare feet. His surrounds looked familiar, but no matter how fast or hard he walked, the clearing never changed. It was an unending loop, taunting him to escape, to find the exit._

 _"Everybody has secrets," said a familiar voice. Arthur spun to see Merlin standing between two trees. His voice was normal and lighthearted, but his expression was anything but. He gazed at Arthur blankly._

 _"Merlin!" Arthur said, relieved. "What are you talking about? Why are you out here? We have to get out; I think magic is involved. It's some sort of puzzle. We have to find the solution."_

 _"Everybody has secrets," Merlin repeated unhelpfully. Arthur stepped towards him, determined to strangle some sense back into his manservant if he had to, when Merlin dissolved is a swirl of mist and vanished._

 _"Merlin?!"_

 _"No!" Arthur spun, to see Merlin on the opposite side of the clearing. His face was bloodied, and he shook his head rapidly, looking terrified. He gazed at something Arthur couldn't see. "Ignorance is bliss- you don't want to know!" This Merlin had barely vanished before a new voice spoke up._

 _"I've hidden for so long, I don't think I know how to stop."_

 _"People have died. I could be next."_

 _"I've never acted against Camelot or you."_

 _"The idea of anyone knowing… terrifies me."_

 _Arthur spun in circles, each Merlin speaking and disappearing faster than the one before it. They all wore the same variety of expressions: terror, pain, desperation, defeat. Expressions that Merlin should never have known._

 _"Arthur?"_

 _He spun to see Merlin, again, alone. This one was different. His face was blank. His eyes were gold._

 _"I think if you really wanted to figure it out, you could."_

* * *

Arthur woke to Merlin's overly cheerful morning routine. The sunlight washed across his face, and Arthur buried his face in his pillows. His eyes felt heavy; he'd tossed and turned almost all night.

The dream came rushing back to him all at once, and his brain jolted awake as if ice water had been poured on him.

Merlin. Loyal, cheerful, lying Merlin.

Golden eyes.

 _It was just a dream,_ he scolded himself. _There's no real reason to think Merlin has… Merlin has…_ Even mentally, he couldn't complete the thought at first.

Still, despite himself, he couldn't stop from raking through years of coincidences and narrow escapes that crowded in his memory. _It makes sense. Oh gods, it makes so much sense. How could I have been so blind?_

 _Merlin has magic._

 _Magic._

 _Merlin._

 _Magic, questionable at best, evil at worst._

 _Merlin, good, always._

 _Merlin has magic._

 _Merlin has magic._

 _Merlin has magic._

He echoed the realization like an anthem, as if repetition could usher in acceptance. He turned the thought over and over, until 'magic' didn't feel like a real word and the concept was as abstract as mortality. There was no room for betrayal; a stunned emptiness was rooted in his core, stealing him of rational thought.

"Arthur? Are you alright?" Merlin voice cut through the turmoil, concern evident in his tone.

"Yes, I'm fine," Arthur said finally. He kept his face turned towards his pillows like a coward; he couldn't face Merlin, or Merlin would see the empty, awkward disbelief on his face and _know._ He would know that Arthur knew, and then Arthur would never get to decide how he felt about the whole thing. Merlin couldn't know Arthur knew, or Arthur wouldn't know how to act about knowing. He could feel the beginnings of a monster headache building up in his temples.

"Well, get up," Merlin carried on, his concern melting into exasperation. The events of the last two days seemed to be totally forgotten. "You have a lot to do today."

* * *

Arthur moved through the day mechanically. He nodded when he was supposed to, echoed his father's sentiments on magic when prompted, and put his knights through their exercises flawlessly. To all but the most perceptive, he was the perfect prince. Those who paid the closest attention thought he was perhaps a little distracted. He registered none of it.

Every few minutes he would think of Merlin, and Merlin's magic, and nothing could distract him. He was angry; angry that Merlin lied, angry that now he had to deal with this huge problem, angry that he hadn't seen what was right in front of his face until he'd walked smack into the problem. The he was ashamed of his anger, because whatever his problems, Merlin clearly had struggled more. And he'd done it alone. For _years._ And, of course, undercutting it all was a self-doubt that shook Arthur to his shocked, empty core.

He was not an emotional man to start with, and he would rather jump off the tallest tower in the castle than deal with sentiment and nonsense of the like day in and day out. How could he possibly trust himself to handle this situation properly, delicately, correctly, when it was so close to home? He could never turn on Merlin, the man who was like a brother to him. And he knew (because the truth spell had told him) that Merlin had never tried to hurt Camelot or Arthur himself, that he'd always tried to do the right thing.

But that had to mean magic was okay, if not outright good.

That meant the cornerstone of twenty-odd years of policy in Camelot was wrong, empty of logic.

That meant _his_ policies were wrong.

If he accepted Merlin, how could he still love Camelot?

 _Merlin knows. He's magic, and he still would protect Camelot with his life._

Arthur was not an emotional man. This subject was delicate, and emotional certainly. And oh gods, he was going to have to walk right into the thick of it. _Heaven help me._

* * *

"Let's talk, Merlin."

"Alright," Merlin said, dropping into the offered chair across from Arthur easily. "What's wrong? If it's Gwen, I've told you before she's allergic to walnuts, it's not my fault you don't pay attention. And I didn't _really_ mean what I said about Lord Kr-"

"It's not about any of that," Arthur said, taking a deep breath. Under the table, his leg bounced nervously. In the dying sunlight, Merlin's lazy grin faded. A now-familiar astute wariness flickered behind his eyes. The silence of Arthur's chambers was deafening.

"Do you remember what you said to me, yesterday?" Arthur asked finally.

"Yes," Merlin answered softly. He sat so still he could have been made of stone. Only the drumming of his fingers against the armrest of his chair betrayed his nerves.

"I got to thinking about it," Arthur continued. Ironically, he wondered which would be worse: to be right and face this problem, or to be wrong of the most serious matter in front of Merlin. "Your secret could kill you. You've never tried to hurt Camelot- so this thing is big enough to topple a kingdom, or at least severely compromise it. I _could_ figure it out, but I haven't, so I don't think about it often. And you don't know how to tell anyone, because you only know how to hide this secret."

Merlin swallowed thickly. His fingers quickened their frantic tapping.

The tapping was fraying Arthur's already-shot nerves. He could feel the stress of the last two days bubbling over.

"Say something," Arthur snapped.

"I-I… what do you want me to say?" Merlin asked helplessly, starting to rise from his chair. "Maybe… maybe we should have this talk another time. You're tired-"

For Arthur, this was the last straw. He was trying to fix this, damn it, and Merlin was going to face this head on or Arthur was going to go insane.

"Merlin, stop," he ordered. "Sit. It's over. I know." His voice was hard and sharp, strange even to himself.

Merlin collapsed back into his chair and deflated. His face fell, his shoulders slumped forward, and his fingers stilled.

"I know," he said quietly. "Please…" His voice broke and he cut off abruptly, not meeting Arthur's gaze. This show of vulnerability infuriated the prince.

"Stop. _Stop,"_ Arthur ordered, jumping to his feet and pacing furiously back and forth in front of the warlock.

"I can't," Merlin said. He sounded broken. The manservant didn't even know what he was pleading for, he just knew that he'd tried, he'd tried _so hard_ to make everything work, and now he was at the end of the road and he just couldn't do it anymore. He could face the world, but he couldn't lose the trust of the man he'd given everything to serve and protect, and he couldn't fight both warfronts simultaneously. His burden was killing him.

Arthur stopped pacing and stood and just stared. The silence in the room was heavy and suffocating; the prince no longer felt empty and shocked. Now he wanted to throw something. He desperately needed something to shatter into a million pieces and crack, break the silence and the tension that was in danger of flooding him.

Instead he stood very still. He clenched his hands into fists and breathed ( _in and out, in and out, in and out)_ and stared at Merlin's trembling shoulders.

He stared and realized that maybe he'd broken something after all.

The tension drained from him, and he was left feeling exhausted. Then disgusted, but not with Merlin, with himself. He would have given anything not to feel anything at all.

"Merlin," he said quietly. The warlock kept his eyes glued to the floor, as if it might open up and swallow him whole. Arthur noticed for the first time how exhausted the servant looked; the bags under his eyes carried the weight of several sleepless nights.

"Go to bed," Arthur said. Merlin looked up, sure he'd heard wrong.

"But-"

"Go to bed, Merlin," he repeated. "Your secret is safe with me."


End file.
